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jinnie-ret · 2 months

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cigarette duet

poly!stray kids x ninth member!reader

genre: angst, fluff at the end

content warnings: smoking, mentions of rehab, mentions of recovery

word count: 3k

summary: you get hounded by your boyfriends after they catch you smoking. how will they react when you disappear and go off the radar?

requested: @ihrtlix

It has been a while since I've written! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get around to the requests for this event but I'm getting back into the swing of things! Hope you enjoy! Please don't take offense to any opinions presented in this imagine. Enjoy! And if you want to be tagged in anything I write please lemme know! <3

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MAIN MASTERLIST

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Perhaps you had smoked one too many cigarettes last night. Waking up the next morning after battling your stresses with the addictive feed of nicotine, your throat felt dry, hoarse, scratchy even.

"Baby, are you sure you're not sick?" Felix fussed, placing his hand delicately on your forehead to gain an idea of your temperature. "I mean, you don't feel hot, but maybe you're coming down with something?"

"I'm fine, love, just need some water," you kiss his hand that was pulling away from your face, offering a reassuring smile after clearing your throat.

And in your mind, that was enough. You didn't notice the little things that your boyfriends did however.

"Binnie, what are you doing? You look like a perv haha," Hyunjin giggled at the sight of Changbin rummaging through the laundry basket and sniffing your hoodie.

"Ssshhh, keep it down. And plus, it's not being pervy, people in relationships do it all the time. It's comforting smelling each other's clothing," Changbin righteously pointed out to his boyfriend, puffing his chest before adding, "well, normally it is..." he sighed.

"Woah that's mean, you can't say our girlfriend smells," Hyunjin pushed Changbin's shoulder, laughing again but with wide eyes this time round.

"No, no, you've got the wrong idea anyways. I think... I think Y/N's been smoking. I can smell it on her hoodie," Changbin sighed, tossing the white hoodie of yours back into the washing basket that was full to the brim. He was about to continue his spiel of conspiracies until he jumped when your arms wrapped around behind him.

"Aw, babe, are you doing the washing? Thank god for that, I was worried it would never get done," you squeezed him tightly once more before kissing him on the cheek and continuing your venture into the kitchen, Felix trailing behind you.

"I think she's getting sick, I'm gonna see if we have any meds in the cupboard, or some throat sweets at least," Felix pouted as he walked past his two boyfriends, Hyunjin ruffling his hair on the way.

Changbin threw a meaningful look at Hyunjin, alarms going off in his head because it only added more fuel to the blazing fire of thoughts in his head.

"Look, we don't know that she is smoking for sure. Maybe she's just been around some friends that are?" Hyunjin whispers hurriedly, yet this caught Seungmin's attention, and his ears too.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Seungmin casually stood between the two, grabbing laundry detergent and capsules from the cupboard to act natural yet because practical at the same time.

"I'll explain later, to all of you. I'm just a bit concerned," Changbin sighed, rubbing his hand across his face before actually making a start on the chore at hand.

It was an escape for you, much like it was for other people who smoked cigarettes. And plus, you hadn't been doing it for long. You thought what could the harm be when you didn't do it a lot? Plus, it was handy that none of your boyfriends batted an eyelid in the studio when you said you wanted to go outside for some air. In fact, it gave the opportunity for Changbin to lay out his thoughts to the rest of your boyfriends who hadn't yet heard his observations.

"Y/N... I don't think she'd do that, I can't picture it," Jeongin shook his head, shaking his hands in confusion because the picture being painted in front of them seemed very unlikely and it wasn't a nice one to think of.

"And she knows it's too risky. First of all we're idols. I hate to say it but we have to think about that first in situations like these. Even when we're drinking we've got to be careful. If you're right about this, Binnie, then..." Chan groaned, leaning back into his seat with a huff.

"But she did just go out 'for some air'," Han added on, brows furrowed as he thought what Changbin was saying was quite plausible.

"Ok. We'll go check then," Minho shrugged as he stood.

"What?" Felix too stood up.

"We can't sit here and keep worrying. Let's go check and see for ourselves. If we're wrong... And I hope we are... Then it's fine," Minho grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket, scanning around the room for his boyfriends' reactions.

"And if we're not wrong, then what?" Hyunjin voiced his concerns.

"Let's just hope we're not," Chan was first to walk out the door, the rest of Stray Kids following along after him like ducklings and their mother. Apart from this time it wasn't the cute, adorable scene you'd hope for, especially because they could smell the smoke and see your lax figure as soon as they rounded the corner to the back of the building.

"No. Y/N you've got to be kidding me!" Chan snatched the cigarette out of your hand and immediately stomped it out.

"Chan I-" you fumbled on your words, eyes wide as you had all eight of your lovers stood in front of you. And the way they looked at you made you stomach twist into knots you were sure you'd never felt.

Disappointment. Anger. Concern. Indifference.

"Let's talk about this inside," Changbin wrapped an arm around your shoulder as he spoke quietly to you.

Your heart was racing faster. They were going to think the worst. But you had a way out of this. It wasn't even that bad. Sure, over the past month maybe you'd have been spending more money on packs of cigarettes, yet on the inside you felt as if there were worse things you could be doing to yourself.

"Sit," Minho bluntly said, face unreadable, tone void of emotion.

And so you did.

"We'll just have a conversation about this, nice and calm, ok?" Felix nudged Chan in particular with his leg.

It seemed however that it wasn't a conversation, but more of an intervention. A heated one, at that.

"I can't be nice and calm, Lix! Our girlfriend is destroying her body, and for what?" Chan's voice rose ever so slightly, hands squeezing the arms of the chair he was tensely sat in.

"It's just a cigarette," you feebly replied. That backbone of yours was slowly wearing away the more and more anger you felt radiating off of your partners.

"Don't be ridiculous," Seungmin scoffed, "think of the damage it's doing. Think about your career."

"It's more than just the odd cigarette, right?" Changbin prodded, wanting answers to the millions of questions he had. After all, he was the first one to notice how you gradually stopped voicing your concerns to him but still sometimes had the habits that showed your anxiety.

"Well, yes, but-" you began but were cut off.

"No buts. That's... It's, you're hurting yourself, hurting your lungs. Why are you doing this, baby?" Jeongin took your hand in his, concern not the only thing glistening in his eyes, which broke your heart.

"It's just a nice distraction, that's all. It won't go on forever, I'll just stop when I want to," you shrug your shoulders, squeezing his hand to show you meant what you said.

"It's not that easy. Nicotine. It's addictive. You think you can just stop like that?" Hyunjin frowned, shaking his head.

"I know I can," you firmly said, urging them with your voice to trust you.

"I don't know what planet you're living on," Chan shook his head.

"Channie..." Felix bit his lip, feeling torn. On one hand he didn't want your boyfriend to be so tough with you, but he also disagreed with the choices you made, the ones you were making.

"No I'm sorry but Y/N, babe, you've made one of the stupidest choices you could make! Seungminnie is right, Jeongin too. It's damaging for your body, let alone your career. You keep this up, you're not going to be able to sing as well as before. And then it'll get to the point where you can't breathe as well anymore," Chan ranted, fiddling with the bracelets adorning his wrist as he didn't take his eyes away from yours, not once.

"I just told you it's not going to go that far!" your face contorted to one of disbelief.

"That's out of your control," Minho sternly redirected your attention to him.

"Wow. It's like you don't even trust me. I'm not some kid. I can make my own decisions. So what if I'm doing this for a little bit of stress relief? For a bit of fun. It helps me," your voice almost turns to pleading, wanting them to hear you out, hear your reasoning.

"It hurts you, baby. And when it hurts you, it hurts us as well," Han bit his lip after shakily speaking up. He didn't like this situation, not one bit.

"I'm not doing it to hurt you. I'd never do that," your voice wobbled, throat feeling as if it was closing up from the sob that was lodged down there.

"Too late. I mean just look," Chan emptied your handbag, empty packets of cigarettes and some not, falling out onto the floor of the studio.

"Y/N, that's a lot," Hyunjin gasped, clutching a hand on his chest.

"It's not. It's not that bad..." you denied as you knelt on the floor and tidied up the mess.

"You're in complete denial," Seungmin rolled his eyes.

"I'm not! I'm well aware of my actions thank you very much!" you shouted suddenly, causing everyone to freeze at the volume you had just reached.

The guilt set in. It was never meant to go this far. It was just meant to be for stress relief. Something to distract you from the aches and pains, physical and mental. It wasn't long until you'd be performing a special fanmeeting and relearning old choreographies and a cover had you feeling like you were being worked down to the bone. Even iconic dances like God's Menu were hard to remember, and you felt like you had no chance. No choice. It was like it fell into your lap so easily.

The first time you had stood outside to catch some air, it was for that genuine reason. And you weren't alone. You didn't know if the person worked at your company, if you knew them, whatever. But their hand offering you something that could bring you temporary bliss was a solution you were grateful for. Only now, you were seeing that it was short term.

"You need help. Seriously..." Chan spat, grabbing his backpack and storming out of the studio.

"Find a way to end this, Y/Nnie," Felix mumbled, stroking your hair gently before following Chan out with a rush.

"You're all just going to go?" your voice cracked. Were they leaving you now?

"We just need some time," Changbin sighed. And then he was gone too.

"You're leaving me?" you sniffled, standing up to face your boyfriends that were still in the room.

"Not like that, baby. We're just giving you time to think about how you can stop this, ok?" Han stroked your face as he made sure you knew this wasn't the end. And then he left too, Minho, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin leaving too.

All alone. Perhaps it was what you deserved. You relied on the cigarettes more than your boyfriends. And they were all you had left for the moment. That was when it sank in. You had to make a change. You had to stop this habit form taking over your life, from pushing away the people you love most, and from taking your life away.

•••

"She's sorting herself out at least... that's got to be commendable."

"I guess so. Let's just hope it doesn't get out that a JYP idol is at rehab for smoking."

"It won't. And she's doing well from what I've heard..."

This was the only time Han was grateful for the staff gossiping. Immediately, he felt calmer. Considering the boys had spent the last few days blowing up your phone and worrying where you went, it was an oddly relieving feeling hearing you were at rehab. They had tried asking JYP himself, asking the manager of the company where you were but all they said was that you were safe.

"I know where she is!" Han bursted through the apartment door, slamming it shut behind him as he panted out of breath.

"Woah, woah, ok, deep breaths, let's sit down," Chan, with the darkest circles around his eyes yet, gently sat Han down on the sofa. He felt awful. He thought he had driven you away from them all. From the group. From the relationship. And that had been eating him up inside. It was a wonder he could act so calm with the news of you going into rehab.

"Rehab? For smoking? I didn't even know that was a thing," Seungmin hummed in thought, his arms crossed.

"I didn't either, but I overheard the staff. They say she's doing well. It's a good thing, right?" Han's eyes stared through the souls of everyone gathered in the lounge, begging for some sort of confirmation that things would get better.

"I mean, at least we're a bit more in the know then our own fans about why our girlfriend is on hiatus," Changbin brushed his fluffy, dark hair out of his eye.

"Can't we go and see her?" Felix wondered, lifting his head up from where it rested on Minho's shoulder.

"We shouldn't," Minho quietly sighed.

"Why not?" Jeongin quickly turned to him, mouth parted in shock that he didn't want to see Y/N.

"No, he's right. She's gone there for a reason. To get better. It's what we all said to her, isn't it? We'll see her soon. And when we do... It'll all be better," Chan helped everyone see sense. He was right. You had listened to them. You went and got help and were solving the problem. If they suddenly ambushed you and got in the way of that... You'd be back to square one.

•••

Today was the day, you were finally going back to the boys. You spent a good 3 weeks at rehab, and had been advised on some good coping mechanisms to take your mind off of smoking and how to create some healthier habits. You had shown good progress and it was deemed acceptable for you to leave and spend time back with your loved ones. And you couldn't lie, you were incredibly nervous. You had dropped a text without reading the spam that littered the groupchat, notifying your boyfriends what time you'd be returning, but after that you once again did not read anything else that was sent.

"Oh my baby, I've missed you so much," Han was the first one at the door, pressing kisses all over your face as he took you into his arms, holding you lightly.

"I've missed you too," you cried immediately, despite the weight off your shoulders.

"You're good now, right, darling?" Seungmin softly tugged you away from Han, both of his hands cupping your face whilst his thumbs wiped away your tears.

"I'm better," you nod through tears, Seungmin pressing a kiss to your head and giving space for your other boyfriends to soothe you and reunite with you. It had only been three weeks, yes, but 21 days had never felt so long.

"I'm proud of you, come here," Changbin scooped you into his arms and lifted you slightly, making you giggle before your feet touched the ground once more.

"Thank you... I'm sorry. I didn't realise what I had done... How far it went, you know?" you began, looking down at the floor as Hyunjin came and wrapped his arms around you from behind, his long arms securing you to him.

"We're just happy to see you here, honey, healthier," he whispered into your ear soothingly.

"And please talk to us in future. We had time to think after that, moment, and we know you were doing it as an escape. But we're here for you," Jeongin pecked you on the lips, your heads pressed against each other for a moment before he too moved away.

"Always, we're always here," Felix reiterated what Jeongin preached, and kisses you as well, noses rubbing against each other as he moved away, a cute expression on his face.

"Come here," Minho opened his arms, and you reluctantly left Hyunjin's arms only to be happy again in the warmth of your other boyfriend's embrace.

"Thank you for waiting, all of you," you swayed with him in his hug, until you pulled away and it was only Chan left.

He stood a few metres away, back to you, shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

"Channie... babe," you sighed, tugging his hand to turn him and face you. His words had hurt you the most but it was also a huge wake up call. "Please, look at me, I'm not mad. I'm so grateful."

"I was too harsh with you," he bit his lip, hard, not wanting to let any tears escape.

"I needed it. Look at me now, I'm here, I'm better, and I've got habits I can stick to instead. Ones that won't hurt me. And they won't hurt you guys either," you looked up at him, one hand running through the hair at the nape of his neck and the other cupping his face.

"I'm so glad you're back... We were worried... Lost without you," Chan admitted, staring up at the ceiling before kissing you deeply, expressing all the emotions he had held back whilst you were gone.

"It's all good now. Plus, you should all be proud of me-"

"We are proud of you, baby," Jeongin cut you off stroking your hair.

"Well, be even prouder because I know how to bake an amazing carrot cake if I say so myself," you laughed, sharing a new skill that had occupied your stress and been taught whilst you were away.

"You can bake with me now! Oh my gosh! It's a miracle!" Felix cheered, tugging you into the kitchen as the other boys chuckled from behind you both.

"I didn't think you meant this very second!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kailee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria

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bbugsy · 10 months

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recreating that one pose from nic’s film “wild at heart”… yeah y’all can blame lamb for this ship LMAO

#dead by daylight #nic cage #nicolas cage #jill valentine #valencage #or perhaps… nicotine… HAHA #my art

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gambleofstars · 4 months

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Electrician Reader as Vox’s Assistant (Pt. II)

₍ ⌨ ᶻᶻᶻ gambleofstars is typing ... ₎

↳ ❝ [a/n: i’m on a roll, expect a third part also haha, i kind of love this concept to be honest, not to mention i work an office job too so, pretty relatable to me. also minor content warning for smoking, but it's just casual, really] ¡! ❞

Part I

⋆♡* In fact, you liked hell, because people were much less judgmental.

⋆♡* In the overworld, your coworkers would judge you for every move. You were polite? You were a suck-up. You were cold? You were rude. You were professional? You were distant. So when you started calculating your every move? You were scheming.

⋆♡* But here? Your scheming qualities were greatly appreciated and utilized.

⋆♡* Your boss would let you stay in the conference room for business holder meetings. He doesn’t want you to know, but Vox definitely observed your reactions during these meetings. Every twitch of your brow and rolling of eyes you thought went unnoticed, were important.

⋆♡* And having a boss who sees your abilities is a sure way of making a loyal employee. Maybe this was also scheming on Vox’s part but hey, who judges who in hell?

⋆♡* If Vox’s honest, the 8am coffee and your faint groan of annoyance at his client was a bit of a highlight of his day, if you will.

⋆♡* He has to listen to either: boring meetings or other vees’ tantrums every day, so your small presence is welcome as a solidarity of someone seeing what he has to deal with.

⋆♡* (Even though his own hissy fits are no less ridiculous and much more dangerous)

⋆♡* You do get bonuses for putting up with them though. Don’t be mistaken, this is a business transaction, after all.

⋆♡* Sometimes though, you wonder who he was on earth? Or if you crossed paths in any way. You get this sentimental feeling at times that you can never explain…

★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

“FUCK!” Vox exclaims as he slumps down on his desk (?) chair after raging about the PR management team messing up their work. Yet again. At this point, his bowtie is all messed up and his button-up is half wrinkled.

He’s still seething, but you can see the anger is slowly sizzling out. Good, you were really not in the mood for playing therapist this evening. You already had a long day of sorting out the PR nightmare that is Valentino’s social media (which was partially the reason for Vox’s current exhaustion).

Usually, you’d listen to Vox yap about 99 problems in his vicinity. Let him let it out and then distract him with an upcoming business opportunity - kinda dealing it like you would with a teenager.

For some reason though, this evening the soft breeze coming through the open windows of the office and purple dust color of the hell’s sky, you felt an olive branch form in your heart.

“Would you like a cigarette?”

It always worked for you. After the stress of sorting out numerous affairs for the Vees (primarily your boss), a cigarette felt like a piece of heaven, really. So, why not? Bonding time with your boss or whatever.

He eyes your outstretched hand that’s holding a pack of Malborry Red (delivered straight from the gluttony ring); he seems almost suspicious, which makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry boss, drugs is Mr. V’s style. This is just tobacco”

“Fuck it”

He grabs the cigarette out of the pack and sighs like a single dad of 50 kids. Before you can laugh at this pathetic little man, you get out your lighter and light the cig up as courtesy, seeing as you’re the one who offered it.

There’s a tense moment when he just looks at you. You don’t know what he’s thinking at times and this is one of them. It bothers you a bit, like you can’t read an open book.

Either way, when he takes the first drag, he slowly goes to lean over the balcony railing with his elbows as you light your own stick. You don’t join him though.

Both of you stay silent in the comfort of an otherwise empty wing. The only noise is from the city down below and the quiet whirring of Vox’s fans to filter out the nicotine-filled smoke.

It’s kind of relaxing, in all honesty.

“Maybe I should just jump off here” he says out loud. The casual tone makes you scoff with amusement as you join him on the balcony as well. You stay close to the door though.

“Please think of the company’s integrity sir” you remind him, taking a drag of your own cigarette “Also, you can’t really die here. There are 75 electricians and technicians on standby at all times.”

Vox groans and puts the screen of his head down onto his forearm, his cigarette hanging off the 50 story building with just his two fingers as a safety measurement.

“Then maybe I’ll go out of commission for a week and ignore everything and everyone for once” he concludes with the same casuality.

“You need to be present at the shareholders meeting tomorrow afternoon or it won’t commence” you explain, honestly a bit delighted in deliberately pissing him off.

“You go do it then”

“No thank you”

Another sigh and a comfortable silence. You’d think Vox fell asleep if his fans weren’t still whirring. Even though feeling pity for the rich is a bit ridiculous, you find yourself approaching him and leaning with your back on the railing.

“Tell you what boss, I think you need to present the angelic security plan by tomorrow at 4:45” you suggest, eyeing his reaction.

He looks up at you a bit confused “Right after the meeting?”

You chuckle a bit mean-spirited “What are they gonna do? Leave?”

He picks up at what you’re putting down and a wicked smile crosses his face “So that means I won’t have any meetings until Friday”

You pick up an ashtray on the coffee table next to you and hold it out for him. But seeing as he doesn’t even notice how his cig is burning away as he plans his Thursday, you pluck it out of his hands to put it out for him.

It’s almost laughable how perplexed he looks, but you resist as you put your own stick out too and place the tray back down.

“Do you need me to plan anything for Thursday sir?”

“Do you think on earth we ever crossed paths?”

Well that was out of the blue “I don’t know sir, never thought about it” that’s a lie, you’ve thought about it every time you left the office with a feeling of deja vu.

“Whatever, who gives a shit” he said, aloof and walked back into his office “You’re more useful as my assistant down here anyway”

Maybe. Not like your life was any less stressful on earth, right? (please, do note the sarcasm).

Still, watching your boss blow up like a bomb every other morning was enough entertainment to make this job amusing.

Not to mention, on earth, this fleeting moment of fondness never crossed your heart. How ironic that you find the most vulnerable part of yourself in the flaming pits of hell filled with sinners alike you.

Maybe that’s why. The fact that you found someone who can keep up the pace with your deliberate chess-piece kind of thinking with no guilt, is a bit of a blessing in disguise.

How a string of your heart happily tugs at his victories.

You won’t let him know that though.

i'm really liking writing out my office work frustrations in these small drabbles ahaha >:) anyway, my request box is open if you wanna drop by :) <3

signing off, gambi 💋

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin valentino #hazbin velvette #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #the vees

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allgremlinart · 2 months

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Asami Sato would never do coke or hard drugs or even nicotine but she WOULD say "haha... I'm at the end of my rope so I think I'm gonna get a little wild today" and then eat a single chocolate covered espresso bean

#can I put yall on to chocolate covered espresso beans though ... ?#asami sato #tlok

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bugs1nmybrain · 7 months

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Mall Slut ~ Shigaraki x Reader

Summary: Shigaraki and the reader go to the dispensary in the mall, get stoned, and get really horny. So they fuck.

Author's Notes: I've been contemplating writing this fic for a while. It's a silly concept to me, and I wish I could live this fantasy irl to be honest. The reader has specific physical and personality characteristics, they're meant to resemble me

Traits About the Reader: she/her pronouns, fem presenting and an afab body, alternative aesthetic, big ass, short

Warnings: NSFW (18+ MDNI), fem reader, drug use (marijuana), Tomura is a bad influence, sex while stoned, bathroom sex, spanking, exhibitionism, Shigaraki has blue hair, brat taming, wrote this while stoned, POV swings, Shigaraki calls the reader a slut, squirting, daddy kink, reader is resistant to Tomura's quirk

Going to the mall was one of Tomura's most frequent pastimes, when he wasn't too busy being pissed off at hero society. Sometimes, he'd simply let himself throw a hoodie on so no one would recognize him, and get out a bit. Maybe check out some game stores, maybe a hot topic if he was feeling desperate for merch. However, one spot in the mall was his favorite, for reasons. And no, it wasn't Spencers.

"You'd be surprised by the deals they have here," Tomura commented as you both strolled your way down the crowded mall. You dodged some idiots who didn't look where they were walking, almost bumping into you. Tomura's face lit up with evident annoyance, but you simply tugged on his arm and kept walking.

The effect you had on him was criminal, he'd say. How such an abrasive, pessimistic, and irritable man could be railed in by one cute little alt girl with a fat ass.

Seriously, you always had to wear the sluttiest skirts that showed off your thighs and hips. Very unfair in his opinion.

You two had finally reached the dispensary, by the name of "Garden Aromas." Good weed store name. You two entered in to see a few people roaming around, looking at products. There was a decent line forming.

"I'm thinking carts," Tomura says, leading both of you straight to the vape section.

"You have that kind of money?" you asked, knowing how expensive that shit is.

"It's fine. I got lent some cash from Kurogiri and I also found a wallet on the ground the other day. I've got money."

"What kind, then?"

"You choose."

You eyeballed the selection of strains. You were at the mall, so nothing to make you sleepy. Or too cognitively impaired. You could very well ask the budtender what he'd recommend, but you hated talking to strangers.

"Me?"

"Who the fuck else would I be talking to?"

"Mimosa."

"Pick one more, between you and I that will be gone in less than a day."

"Fuck..uh..strawberry cough."

"Aight."

Tomura and you waited in line for a bit before coming up to the counter. You told the seller what strains you wanted so he could grab them from their locked casing. You brought out your medicinal card (Tomura didn't have one) and kaching.

The carts went into a special bag and handed over to you, but Tomura took the bag from your hands as soon as it ended up in them. As you two exited the store, Tomura went roaming around in his black backpack that he brought, quickly pulling out the battery to a dab pen. He takes one of the carts from it's packaging and attaches it to the battery before taking a brief hit from it.

"Uh..we're out here," you comment, nerved by the fact that someone could see Tomura hitting the pen out in the open, not bothering to censor himself.

"It's fine. No one will care, as long as it's not in front of one of those mall cops. Most people would probably think it's nicotine, anyways."

"I guess you have a point."

"Of course I do. Here."

Tomura shoved the pen in your hand. You two were currently at a fountain. You took a hit from the pen, not really thinking about how much you were inhaling. As soon as you exhaled, you coughed up a storm, and if you two weren't standing out before, you surely were now.

"Haha!" Tomura cackles. He always got a kick out of your amateur lungs. "People are gonna think you're sick. We should find a better spot."

"y.." you were starting to feel it coming. "yea."

"Come on. I know where to go."

"Okee."

You were sooo stoned. Just from that one dreadful hit. You tried to wrap your head around your surroundings as Tomura pulled you around the mall. Not only were you stoned, but you were also pretty short. If you'd let him he'd probably keep you on a damn leash all the time; you were simply too easy to lose.

"Where are we going, Tomura?"

"Here."

You hadn't been paying much attention to the direction you were walking. Tomura stopped in front of the restrooms and was now dragging you to the men's bathroom. It didn't smell the best. Tomura stopped a little bit before the entrance and glanced in to see if there was anyone in.

"We're good. Come on."

There weren't many stalls in this bathroom, only two and then many urinals. Tomura placed his hand on your back and guided you to the farthest stall, locking the door behind him. It was a big stall, thankfully. Tomura took out the pen once more and clicked on the button to activate it. He pulled for a long time. When he finally stopped, he held the vape in his lungs for a couple seconds before exhaling.

"This hits nice. I've always considered it relaxing," he says, twirling the pen in his hands as he simply stared at it, and continued to talk to you. "How are you feeling? Are you fucked up?"

"I'm stoned, yea."

"Anything more special than that?"

"I mean. You look cute right now. Like cuter than usual. I don't know if it's because I'm stoned but..you're cute."

He stood there in awe, not expecting that response. You didn't either, it just came out. It was true though, as you allowed yourself to look at Tomura's face, or at least what you could see with his hoodie on, you became reminded of how much you adore him. His shaggy blue hair, blood-red eyes, and dry skin all were traits about him you found especially alluring. Some people wouldn't understand the dry skin part, but it was a staple of Tomura's. You couldn't really imagine him with smooth skin. It wasn't a bother, he looked like him, which was perfect for you.

"You're definitely high," Tomura shrugs, slumping back on the door. "You need to get your eyes checked."

"Nuh-uh. You're cute."

"You're a liar, then."

"I'm being for real," you reached out and without thought, wrapped your arms around Tomura and rested your head comfortably underneath his chin. "You're snuggly, too."

"You and I clearly are not smoking the same shit."

"It's vape."

"Shut up."

He put up this fight and displayed himself as if he was annoyed, but he never pushed you away or tensed up as if he was uncomfortable. In fact, the embrace soothed him in a way. It almost pissed him off, knowing how much of a damaged and deranged person he is, and knowing that at the end of the day, you still give him the warmest hugs and call him silly.

"You know..your boobs are pushing against me."

"Eheheh...should I move away?"

"Rnn...no, I guess not."

With that response, you held him even tighter, nuzzling your face at his neck.

He smelt nice. Well, maybe not "nice." Tomura wasn't the freshest guy. He wasn't utterly disgusting, and he didn't smell intolerable, just a little funky. It was a natural musk that calmed you, because the smell was his alone, and comforted you.

His smell was making you feel...clingy. Not to mention his form pressing against you. Tomura's temperature was confusing. To the touch, he's often chilly. However, when you're caught in each other's embrace he seems like a furnace.

"Y/N.."

"What?"

"I have a semi."

You backed up a little and looked down at his crotch. Surely, there was a bit of a bulge. He always wore slim-fit pants so it wasn't hard (ha) to tell when he had a boner. Without consideration about your location, you instinctively went to fumble his bulge through his pants, giving you a startled response from Tomura.

"Hey, if you start that, you know how it'll end."

"I know."

You could swear you felt Tomura's bulge move a little when you said that. You being a little brat never failed to ignite something in him.

"Is that right?" Shiggy flirted. "Then are you gonna be a good girl about it?"

Your face was already flushed from the weed, but now it was even worse. You nodded with a whimper. Tomura watched as you pulled down his boxers, his dick wobbling out afterwards.

Eagerly, you gripped his cock and stroked it in pace, triggering a satisfied grunt from Tomura. You were such a perfect slut for him. He thought to himself that you were doing this on purpose. Touching him in the bathroom like this. Did you want to get fucked in a public bathroom? For people to hear as he made you weak? Heh...

He was going to test this hypothesis.

Shigaraki reached out to stroke your hair a little, tucking your strands behind your ears. His eyes remained lidded, looking at you with lust. He wanted to take you right now, but he wanted to make you all cute and horny for him first. He knew how to get you that way, too.

"Care to give me a show?"

"Hm?"

"Don't hm me. Let me see how pretty you are without that shirt on, hm?"

You blushed and darted your eyes down to his cock to avoid looking at him in the eyes. He giggles at your adorable, shy demeanor. After snickering at his needy request, you tug your shirt over your head clumsily, revealing your black push-up.

"That's coming off too, I hope?"

"Where are your manners?"

"Pllleeeeeeaaaaassseeee?"

And down came your bra. And weren't you a sight for sore eyes? Not only did Tomura adore your tits, you were also accompanied by a pretty black shirt. Easy access. He slid his hands in between your thighs, grazing your panties with his fingers.

"You're wet, hehe..." sometimes when you smoked you got soaked much quicker and easier. It probably had something to do with the sensory processing that came with being high, but it worked in Tomura's favor.

"Mmm.."

How cute. Already whimpering for him and he hasn't done anything to you. You kept stroking Tomura's cock as you had been while he took your face in his hands and kissed you with hunger. It caused you to let go of his cock and lean closer into his embrace, pulling at his sweatshirt while you kissed. Tomura was a bit disappointed at the absence of your hand but distracted himself by reaching behind to grab your ass.

He moved his hands to your waist and held you firmly. He then proceeded to readjust the both of you, so that you were facing away from him. He made sure to let you lean against a wall for support. Tomura flicked your pretty skirt up to reveal your even prettier panties. Soft and lacey and colored black.

Too bad that your pussy was even prettier because your panties didn't remain on for much longer. Tomura pulled them off your ass, watching them drop to your ankles. He touched your pussy, stroking from your clit to your pussy lips. You were drenched, even just the slightest touch, and his fingers ended up sticky. He plunged two fingers into your core and rubbed your g spot perfectly.

"HmMM!!"

"Shhh...be a good slut and keep your voice down."

"Mhmm.."

Shiggy pulls his fingers out and goes back to your clit, rubbing it in swift motion, making you tremble for him.

"That feel good? Or are you just stoned?"

"Tomura..please...a little more."

He took a free hand and toyed with your nipple while he fingered you, burying his face in your neck from behind as he did so. His relentless stimulation drove you to a familiar feeling much quicker than you expected.

"MmMMm~!"

"Hehe...such a good little whore. I can feel your clit twitching on my fingers and everything."

"It's your fault!"

"MY fault? Who's the one walking around in these little miniskirts, pushing her tits up against me and grabbing my dick?"

His fingers got faster and more calculated and you could feel yourself beginning to cum.

"Aa-aawwh..."

"Ehehehe... good whore." Tomura kissed your neck while you came on his fingers, clit pulsing against the pads of them.

Tomura gave you a kiss on the neck as he allowed your pussy a few seconds of recovery. He began rubbing his dick along your slit soon after, eliciting a small yelp of surprise from you.

Then, you heard the sounds of someone's footsteps walking in. You tensed up a bit, worried about what their reaction would be, but your arousal caused you to gravitate your ass closer to Tomura, and he sank his cock all the way into your wet cunt.

"Ah!"

"Mmm..hehehe...shh..can't be too loud, can ya?"

Tomura began thrusting in and out of your pussy, trying to be discreet. It was hard, though, because the bathroom echoed at the slightest noise and Tomura couldn't control how his hips bucked against your ass. His feral desire felt himself become hungry at the sight of your ass jiggling as he thrusts into you. His pace becomes rougher, as he tries to recreate the image again and again.

"t-tomura.."

He doesn't say anything, but Tomura grunts again, this time adding in some heavy breaths and sighs. You looked so hot right now, and he fucking adored how you whined for him as he fucked you for any man in the mall to hear.

You heard a flush of the urinal but the person did not wash their hands from what you could tell. He could've been gross, but maybe he just wanted to get away from what you and Tomura were doing a bad job at hiding.

There (probably) wasn't anyone else in the bathroom now, so Tomura gave up all restraint on your cunt. He grips your waist and bounces you on his cock. As he watches your pretty ass do it's thing, he lands a swift smack on it.

"AH!"

"You're so hot..fuck.."

Your ass was red now, and Tomura would've almost felt bad if he wasn't such a sadist. He rubs it tenderly to soothe you, as he perceives that as his way of being "nice." It doesn't take long until he smacks it again, though, cock leaking at how you'd yelp at the attack.

"Tomura...I'm gonna.."

He didn't know what you were gonna do, but he was gonna make you scream while you did it. He plunged his cock in and out of you rapidly, angling it to rub your g-spot deeply, kissing your cervix while he did so.

"Awwh!~"

Suddenly, a small amount of clear fluid squirted out from your pussy, now leaking down from your thighs.

"Did you just piss?" Shiggy asks as if he's disgusted, but makes no effort to stop or even slow down the pace.

"I-I don't know!"

"Did my cute little girl squirt for daddy, then?"

"Rnn...mhm.." you weren't sure if he could see you nodding, but he was about to cum. You could tell by how deeper, faster, and uncoordinated his thrusts became.

"Aw..fuck I love you.."

"Mmm?"

"You know what I said.." His hips buck against your ass some more, but Tomura finally lets out a geeky groan, cumming deep inside of you. His cum seeps deep in you and as he pulls out, a little trail strings out as well.

"Hehe..."

You were panting like a dog, leaning your arms against the wall for balance. Shigaraki tucks his cock back in his boxers, and then reaches to grab the pen again. You weren't facing him, but you could see a puffy cloud form in front of your face. You turn around to see him ripping the pen and then offering it to you.

"Here's your aftercare."

"That's so romantic of you, Tomura."

"Uh-huh. Wanna go get some food?"

"Yea."

You took the pen from Tomura and took a hit yourself. The adrenaline from the sex mixed with your intoxication made you feel heavy, but Tomura's company provided you with a sense of safety. Which was funny, considering this whole mall would shut down if anyone knew he was here.

"I want ramen."

"I want a kiss."

"Damn, come here then, loser."

Tomura caves into your soft nature and leans down for short but sweet kiss. His lips were chapped, per usual, but they were still supple somehow. He was also very affectionate with his tongue.

He pulls away and opens the door, cocking his head to signal you to get out. As you both walked out you saw as someone was standing at the mirrors, typing on his phone. How long was he there? Tomura pays no bother and pulls you out of the bathroom, and you make your way to the food court.

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura smut #shigaraki smut #shiggy #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader smut

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whlfchn · 1 year

Text

kitten ~ lee know

pairing: lee know x fem!reader

word count: 3.8k

rating: 18+!!!

genre: smut, consensual hate sex, dom!lee know

synopsis: you two never got along and would always push each others buttons which normally would drive one another mad with rage... so why cant you simply walk away this time? why do you hate each other almost as much as you want each other?

warnings: degradation, words like whore and slut are used, some nipple play, oral (fem! and male! receiving), rough sex, slight spanking, choking, very little bondage, orgasm denial, mature language, hate sex

authors note: this is my first attempt at writing hate sex! I usually write fluffy smut, but I wanted to challenge myself and write some rough sex that still had some good backstory. I might make this into a friends with benefit series or enemies to lovers in the future, but im not sure yet haha

!my content is not suitable for minors! 18+ only! by reading more you consent to being 18+ and to nsfw content and take all responsibility!

Your warm body is leaning on the cold backyard railing as your thoughts are drowned out by the loud music. Finding yourself fading into the background as you sit back and observe. Tonight you found yourself getting dragged into attending a stupid college party.

You were never one to attend such events, but your best friend was a socialite and finally managed to drag you away from your solitude and to a party.

You were polar opposites. She was funny, beautiful, positive, and got along with everyone. Not to be cocky, but you were very good looking as well. On the other hand you weren't as social and liked to keep to yourself. Your main focus was school and your career. Not finding the time and energy for things that didn't contribute to your needs.

You were a junior in college. A dance major to be exact. At a very young age you learned the hardships of life and didn't feel like you fit in anywhere. It wasn't until one day that you went with your family to this annual festival you heard so much about. There were many attractions, but the dance performances are what altered your life. You had never seen something as breathtaking as what you witnessed that day. The way that each movement melted into each other. Graceful yet powerful movements to each beat. The way that each dancer interpreted the song differently and how they told a story with their bodies. At that very young age, you saw those performances and knew who and what you wanted to be.

You met your best friend in middle school. You were both attending the same school and dance classes. Fate you would say. She came at a time of need. A lot of people had let you down, but no matter your differences she never gave up on you and has always been there for you. She was your one and only true friend even after all these years.

Unluckily for you, she was just as stubborn as you could be and managed to drag you to a party tonight. You liked to have fun from time to time, but midterms were coming up so you've been at your dorm studying and at the dance studio non stop. It took all day for your best friend to convince you to tag along.

So here you were, alone on the backyard porch watching your best friend take shot after shot having the time of her life. You had a few drinks earlier in the night and were tipsy but nowhere near drunk.

Leaning against the railing you dig into your purse and pull out your box of cigarettes. Taking one out and putting the tip in your mouth.

“Smoking is a terrible habit for a dancer kitten.”

“Fuck off and leave me alone,” you muttered while digging into your purse to find your lighter.

You knew that voice and nickname all too well. It was none other than the “legendary” Lee Know. The senior that everyone talked about. There was no denying he was an amazing dancer and sculpted by the gods, but it was his personality you found to be quite sour.

A hand and lighter came into your view. Too tired to find your own lighter you inhale and allow him to light it for you. Nicotine and smoke soon fill your lungs. As you take the cigarette out of your mouth smoke slowly slips from your lips.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him light his own cigarette.

“I thought smoking was a terrible habit for dancers?”

“It is.”

You scoff at his short and blunt response. You two never got along. Both fueled by rage from each other's presence.

He was in a dance crew that consisted of a couple of your classmates. Stray Kids is what they called themselves. Freshman and sophomore year you had heard a lot about him from the girls in school. Mostly about his visuals and bad boy reputation, but that never intrigued you. It was his dancing that drew you in. You first laid your eyes on him at your freshman school orientation. All the departments had performances lined up for the incoming freshmen. The dance department had lots of performances, but he stood out from the rest. Everyone was amazed by his looks, but for you it was the way he moved, the way he hit every beat, and the way he lost himself to the music.

Your best friend was friends with what felt like the whole world and often dragged you to hang out with them. On this particular day it was the beginning of your junior year and you were told by your bestie that you would be hanging out with the boys in your major. Those boys were a part of the group called Stray Kids. You also heard Lee Know would be tagging along. This excited you since you would finally be able to meet the man you heard so much about and admired the first two years of college. Although you didn't know him personally you looked up to him as he was hands down one of the best dancers you laid your eyes on. But as the saying goes, never meet your heroes!

All the boys seemed cool and chill, except for the man, the myth and the legend Lee Know. He was cold and cocky from day one and picked on you any chance he got. You had no clue what you did to get on this man's bad side, but the feeling of disappointment and anger fueled you anytime you laid your eyes on him. Reminding you that solitude was all you ever needed. With the exception of your best friend of course.

“You look… different,” he says, eyes trailing up and down your frame. Body covered in a short black dress that complimented your shape.

You choose to ignore him and take more drags from your cigarette.

“Looks like your friend is drunk as fuck,”

“So are yours,” you say, looking over to his friend group that are the loudest in the party.

He laughs and leans on his side to face you. You sigh and do the same to finally get a good look at the man disturbing your peace.

Your eyes scan him up and down. There was no denying this man was heaven sent. He was extremely good looking. It made you feel sick how someone could be so hot, but such a pain in the ass. He was wearing all black. Black cargos that adorned his thick thighs nicely with a black leather belt holding them up. A black shirt tucked in with a zipper in the middle going all the way down. Open halfway showing part of his chest and drawing attention to the black choker he had on.

“Like what you see kitten?”

“Fuck you”

“Right now?, In front of all these people?” he says, smirking and lifting a brow cockily.

“Look kitten, thanks for the offer, but I'm not that bored and you're not that lucky,” he chuckles, taking another drag from his cigarette.

All you could do was look at him dumbfounded and laugh at the words that just left his mouth.

“Tch… as if I would offer you such a great time. Trust me, you can't handle me,” you say, smirking back at the man that looks taken aback by what you said.

Not one word is said back. You take this as your cue to finally get away from him and be on your way now that you're done with your cigarette and would like some peace before this ends in another huge argument if continued. You start walking away, but you barely make it a few steps before he speaks up.

“I can handle you,” he says, voice low, barely audible.

You stop in your tracks, you slowly turn around and raise your eyebrow.

“You? Handling me? Well from what I hear, you wouldn't be any good at it and I have standards,” you chuckle in disbelief.

He quickly flicks his cigarette to the ground and stomps on it before making his way to you. Stopping only inches away from you. He grabs your face aggressively and looks into your eyes with such rage and a dark aura surrounding him. Tensions rising, air getting denser, and your body growing hotter by the second. He slowly brings his mouth next to your ear.

“You say a lot of mean things kitten. Why don't we put that pretty mouth of yours to better use?,” he whispers.

Fuck it. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, the warmth from the cigarette, or honestly how long it's been since you’ve had sex. But maybe fucking the guy that hates you as much as you hate him will satisfy you both. Using him for your sexual pleasure didn't sound so bad.

“If you insist”

“What?,” he says, eyes widening in disbelief.

You get out of his grasp and turn around and walk towards the door on the porch that leads into the house. Hand hovering over the doorknob as you turn around and find him in the same spot staring at you.

“Are you coming or not? I can always ask that hot friend of yours. Chan was his name right? He probably knows how to satisfy a girl better than you ever have” you say, acting all innocent. You could swear his eyes turned even darker as he finally started moving in your direction.

You giggle at how easy it was to get him riled up. Quickly turning the doorknob and entering the house, heading upstairs. Footsteps following closely behind you. As you reach the second floor you slow down and look around trying to find which room you should pick.

“This room,” he says, turning the handle and entering with such ease. Flipping on the switch as you follow behind.

The light illuminates the wide, almost empty space. A king sized bed centered with a couch on the opposite wall. One dresser and one desk adorning small details. Balcony doors on the opposite end of the room.

Lee Know walked straight to the desk grabbing a bottle of alcohol, two cups, and started pouring drinks. You close and lock the door behind you and walk in his direction.

“Stealing alcohol? Are you always such an inconsiderate asshole? I don’t even know whose house we are in,” you say, reaching the desk and leaning against it, crossing your arms watching his every movement. He slides a glass of alcohol over to you and brings his own up to his pink lips taking a long sip staring into your eyes from above the rim.

“No need to be such a brat. Just shut up and drink. I know the owners,” he scoffs, taking another big sip, mimicking your position, and leaning against the desk only inches away from you. You take the glass he slid over and take a sip. Feeling the much needed warmth and burning down your throat.

“And who would that be?,” you say, taking another sip.

“My parents,” he says casually, causing you mid-sip to choke and start coughing, taken aback by his blunt response and revelation.

“Already choking kitten? We haven't even started”

Fed up with his little comments, you quickly chug the rest of your drink forgetting about the revelation that this was his house and slam the cup on the table before looking at him with such irritation.

“Not even fucking close, but why don't you come over here and make me? Or I'll just call Chan over and let him handle what you never could”

His eyes widened and mouth twitched in rage. In a split second he slammed his own cup down on the table and next thing you know his lips are on yours. His hands roughly grab at your ass as yours quickly find their way to his hair. Nails digging into his hair and pulling on his locks.

Kissing hard, teeth clicking, tongues rolling over each other and fighting for dominance. You break the kiss and bite his bottom lip tugging on it harshly, almost breaking the flesh. He crushes his lips back on yours in an instant and harshly grabs both thighs and lifts you onto the desk in front of him.

One hand harshly landing on your neck choking you in just the right spot while the other lands on your inner thigh shoving it further open. The cold breeze felt on your now wet panties that were on full display. Dress riding up, legs wide open, all for the man you hate but want to fulfill all your fantasies.

“Tch, little fucking slut, letting me see you like this, so desperate for my touch.” he says, hand tightening on your neck as the other goes to grab your hair harshly making you look up at him in the eyes.

You laugh and bite your lip staring right back at him.

“You're all bark and no bite”

“Trust me kitten, I know how to bite, but the question is can you handle it?”

“Shut the fuck up and fuck me already” you say, growing even more frustrated, just wanting release.

You thought his stare couldn't grow any darker but god were you wrong. He quickly takes his hands out of your hair and off your neck and grabs you roughly by the thighs as your hands go on his shoulder and he walks you over to the bed and then throws you on it.

Now on your back leaning up on your arms as your legs are spread open for the man in front of you. He slowly takes off his belt and sets it down next to your leg. He then proceeds to slowly zip down his shirt revealing abs and a hot scar you didn't know he had. Hands going to his zipper but stopping in its tracks when he looks at you and tilts his head.

“Be a good girl and take off your clothes right now kitten,” he says coldly.

“Why don't you come over here and make me?”

He quickly hovers over you grabbing you by the face, fingers tracing your swollen lips harshly.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god,” he mutters.

“Or what? What are you going to do? Don't threaten me with a good time,”

“You're in trouble now,” he says before grabbing the bottom of your dress and raking it up your body with so much force you swore it ripped before he flung it across the room leaving you in your lace set.

“Look at you all dolled up. Such a fucking whore. Just waiting for someone to fuck you senseless so you can shut that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” he says cupping your wet cunt. A moan leaving your mouth instantly.

He starts kissing and biting on your neck marking you up. Leaving sloppy kisses all the way down to your breasts. Kissing and sucking your hardened nipples through the thin material of your lace bra. Hands slipping under your back as you lift yourself and it's off in no time. His tongue nipping and biting your nipple as the other hand twists and squeezes on the other causing intoxicating pain that you wanted more of. It hurt so bad, but felt so good. Moans leaving your lips as he starts to divert his attention further downwards to your throbbing cunt.

Teeth pulling down the lacy material leaving you completely bare. You barely have time to think as fingers are buried inside of you.

“Fuck.”

He starts pumping in and out curving his fingers filling you up. His tongue soon meets your clit, flicking the sensitive flesh rapidly. His other hand is making its way to your throat and squeezing tightly. He nibbles on your flesh between licks leaving you a cursing and moaning mess. Lee Know going at a brutal pace as his hand is tight on your throat making you feel light headed and dizzy. Drunk off this feeling alone. Chasing your release you grab his hair and tug it harshly bringing him even closer to your core as the other hand cups his own hand on your throat trying to tighten it even more if it was possible.

“ri-right there, fu-fuck,”

As you are about to become undone the pace slows down and he shifts off of you, leaving you a whiny mess.

“Such a filthy slut thinking it would be that easy. You only cum when I tell you too,” he rasps while getting off the bed and quickly taking off his pants and boxers. His hard glistening length bouncing up. Leaving him completely bare as he grabs his black leather belt hovering over you shoving fingers in your mouth. You quickly suck on them and lick them teasing him as he bites his lips in satisfaction. You bite on his fingers harshly getting him out of his trance. Causing him to hiss in pain and grab you by the face again.

“Be a good little slut and get on your knees.”

He lets go of your face and you quickly get on all fours. Face down, back arched, ass up. In a quick second he twists both of your arms behind your back. Quickly tying them with his belt. Your legs falter a bit not having your arms to hold you up.

“Since you want to be in charge and get all grabby without permission, how about we do it like this instead?” he asks while his hands knead your ass, spreading them wider, and teasing you.

“I want you inside of me… now,” you whine.

“Since you asked so nicely,”

His tip pokes your entrance, slowly burying his hard length inside of you. So long and thick it's almost unbearable.

“Fuck,” he moans, digging his fingers into your waist.

“So fucking tight.” he says, hand smacking your ass with so much force. Hissing from the pain as he starts slamming his hips into you. His hard length massages your inner walls. Sounds of smacking flesh and moans bouncing off the wide almost empty room.

Pounding into you at a merciless rhythm. Face being pounded into the mattress as his hips strike your ass at a brutal pace. Skin heating up and breath hitching as he fucks you into oblivion. Only thinking of the way he fills you up so well.

A fire filling your abdomen and nerves on fire. You feel yourself losing composure.

“ju-just like th-that. Harder… I-Im close,” you practically scream out.

“fu-fuck. you wanna cum kitten? you wanna cum on my fat cock? such a fucking whore? cumming on the cock of a man she hates? cum on me kitten,”

Your muscles tense, walls fluttering around his cock, as you bite on the bed sheets to suppress your loud moans as you climax.

Over stimulating your swollen cunt as he still fucks into you frantically. One hand lifting off your waist and going to your wrists undoing the belt and setting your arms free. The same hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and lifting your back flush with his as his hips don't stop rocking into you.

“Turn around for me. I want you to see my face while I fuck you senseless so that next time you let some one fuck you, you’ll never forget that the man you hate so fucking much is the only one that can fuck you this good. And so I can see how good im making you feel so every time you open that loud fucking mouth of yours and talk back I’ll remember just how undone I can get you.”

He lets go of your hair and pulls out of your swollen cunt. Still in a daze you turn around and lay down on your back, legs wide open for him. Hovering over you he slams himself back into you. Moaning and grunting at the pleasurable pain. One hand grabs you by the throat as the other holds onto your waist.

Hips snapping and his hard length quickly hit all those sweet spots. Making you flutter against him causing breathy moans and grunts to leave his mouth.

“sl-slut. letting me fuck you like this. le-letting me ruin you. gonna cum? on my cock? li-like a good little slut?”

Just with those words alone it drives you over the edge. Mouthwatering, intoxicating, and numbing clouds of pleasure take over and you become undone once again on his cock.

“What a good little slut. Cumming just for me.”

“Fuck you”

He laughs still pounding into you.

“Sounds like you might actually hate me, kitten. How about you show me how much you really do hate me.”

“Slap me”

Taken aback by his request and the over stimulation on your swollen cunt all you do is bite your lip and look at the man with confusion evident on your face

“I said… hit me kitten.”

Silence.

“Tch. What are you scared of? I knew you were boring. I should of fucked your best friend inste..” sentence interrupted by the brute force of your hand on his cheek.

“fu-fuck you.” he moans loudly, clearly turned on. Breathing loudly as his thrusts get sloppy.

He quickly takes himself out of your cunt and stays on his knees moving to hover his length over your face and frame.

“Fuck kitten. Looks like there really is more to you then you let on huh? Now put those pretty lips of yours to better use like you promised, yeah?”

You lift yourself up as much as you can with his body still entrapping you in. Licking his tip and slowly starting to suck before quickly picking up the pace. Making eye contact as saliva starts running down your chin. His hand coming up and holding the back of your head guiding you as he bucks his hips. His breathing getting even heavier as he brings up his other hand holding your head still as he fucks your mouth. Thrusting his hips at a fast pace. His long length hitting the back of your throat. Choking and eyes watering as you give him what he wants. Getting turned on all over again at how much he's enjoying your warm wet mouth around his length.

His hips shake as he finishes in your mouth. Swallowing every single drop.

“Fuck kitten. Might have to do this again. Only way I can get you to be quiet.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you say as you clean yourself up. You get changed leaving without another word not wanting to look at him any longer.

You weren't sure what would happen next, but two things you’re sure of is that you still hate him and wouldn't mind him fucking the shit out of you again.

disclaimer: my writing is intended for entertainment and does not represent any real person! the names are used for purely fictional purposes!

please reblog and leave a like! feedback is greatly appreciated and it motivates me to write more! I read it all and am so thankful for each of you!

~ masterlist ~

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jomamaofficial · 1 year

Text

An Empty Vessel pt.1 (Dabi x Preganant!Reader Dark Angst)

A/N: Hehe, hello my lovely toes. MY FANFIC WENT THROUGH THE LAST ROUND OF BETA READING SO HAHA, I CAN PUBLISH IT NOW. I urge you all to read the TWs and CWs because I may have gone a bit overboard hehe. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. I would love to give back to our little community here. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Pregnancy, vague desire for a forced Abortion, Domestic Abuse, Strangulation, Burning, mentions of Bleeding from a finger cut (from cooking probably). CW's: Heavy SFW, SPOILER: Season 6, Dabi’s backstory, Swearing, Mentions of Sexual acts (Birth Control, Pull-out method; nothing graphic has been described), Intimate acts (kissing, making out), Mentions of Bleeding from a finger cut (reader was cooking). Masterlist Edit: Part 2 😩😩. Word Count: 3537 Summary: You were Dabi’s stress release; he would long for the night to come, but refused to take things ‘too far’. He’d wait for you in secret, but he wouldn’t dare show you any affection outside of the designated odd hours. How you longed to change it. How you longed to confess your love for a man who never used your name. So when you found out you were 3 months pregnant, you hoped your unborn baby would bring you closer to your unrequited love.

——————————————————————————————————

Averting your eyes from the scarred man sat across the table from you, you took a deep breath, clenching your jaw. You sat there, alone with your thoughts, loud enough to drown your boss’ voice.

Your thumb rubbed circles on your wrist, comforting the sting that was lingering underneath. Your hand craved the warmth of another; so when it received a burn instead, the hand mistook that pain for love. Because he gave you so much warmth that your weak skin gave way until it blistered, glowing a pretty red. All you wanted was a hand to hold, a hand that would grasp yours and caress the skin atop; so when he groped your supple skin, digging his nails inside your thigh, leaving tiny crescents that decorated the soft surface, your body mistook the pain for love. Because he held you so tightly. Because he didn’t want to let go.

Those were the tender moments where he gave you more than you asked for.

And you hated that they were enough to make you clutch onto a thin rope of hope. A hope that you hated because it was destined for disappointment.

Even though his eyes held spite and his mouth a snarl as he slapped your hand away, stalking ahead, you only clutched harder onto that decaying rope.

His simple acts led to a thousand thoughts, which led to a thousand headaches, which left you wondering why you felt so deeply for a man who wouldn’t even hold your hand in public.

It was just heated gazes; his eyes, half-lidded, boring into yours, finding that special spot deep in your core which always sent hot, velvety haze onto the surface.

He was the only person in this shithole that made you feel alive.

When you first walked into the hideout, you never expected to feel so strongly towards a stranger sprawled in the corner, hands in his pockets with a cigarette lazily placed in his mouth, shoulders hunched and eyes lifeless.

At first, you rolled your eyes and scrunched your nose at the wisps of smoke that loitered around his presence.

Just another faceless person in the crowd, you told yourself; his sole purpose was to dip in and out of your life without a second thought.

And then as the days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, you added a second purpose for him: to always have a cigarette when you needed it.

And you began craving cigarettes all the time.

You convinced yourself you felt nothing towards the scarred man who waltzed into your life. He was just your nicotine supplier and that was the only thing that drew you to him. It was always the cigarettes, never the person.

But after you found yourself on the roof, puffing your stress away with his body pressed against yours, his corruption seeping into your pure bloodstream, it was clear that you were addicted to him. Not the nicotine that he filtered through his sinful body.

Your entire life shaped itself to lead that of a villain. A villain who worked mindlessly. A villain that had no goals or dreams of their own. Just an underling that satisfied their boss.

It was a methodical and vapid life and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. A bitter taste that sweetened when you felt his lips on yours.

Your personal life and your work life were blending with each other, mixing until you had no sense of which was which.

He was disgusting. He had no respect.

With his poorly box-dyed black hair framing his hollow cheeks, and his stupid piercings which completed his empty face. They glistened around his leering eyes, which followed you in the comfort of your own thoughts; he should be disgusting. Because his grafts were also disgusting– a deep shade of purple which creased around the corners of his eyes when he flashed you a subtle smirk. They had darker lesions, with staples pressed against them holding him together. And sometimes, they wept in blood, slipping down his pale skin– his disgusting dead skin– so thickly.

Everything about him was disgusting. But his sore grafts enhanced his winter skin, cold like a gentle snowflake, a delicate crystal. And his hair was an abyss, sucking you in, coaxing you to find beauty in his pretty eyes that held stories you wished to find out as you lay your head in his lap, his scarred hands brushing through your hair.

So when his knee was grinding against you, you helplessly rutted back against it to feel closer to the man who nipped your lips, the taste of ash draining into your mouth. There was a certain hunger behind his touch that threatened to burst.

And you just wanted to feed him.

His hands slid down to your thighs, groping the bare flesh. He pinched them and kneaded them within his own hands, picking at the flesh to press and bruise them.

Your mouth opened in a silent cry and he trailed down to your neck, peppering messy kisses on your skin. Your chest heaved up and down as you lowered your eyes to desperately find his. But they were hidden, grounded to your neck, inspecting the marks he left on you.

But something was wrong.

There wasn’t any love, or compassion, or care. There was only possessiveness.

Possessiveness that made you shiver and shrink. Possessiveness that stripped you bare and vulnerable to his prying cerulean eyes. His clouded gaze scanned every piece of untouched flesh your body had to offer. He ignored your loving eyes. He just wanted to see the marks you would conceal the next morning.

A long deliberate finger made its way down your neck, grazing past the suckled bruises.

One finger turned into a full grasp, a grasp that lingered on your chest. A visceral shiver tore through your delusion, and suddenly that grasp lingered for too long.

Something was wrong.

“Stop it!”, you screamed, arm quivering over the place he touched you. His blue eyes remained frozen, devoid of any expression.

You pushed his hovering body away from yourself, watching his glare settle on you.

It was the first time he looked at you today.

Your head leaned against the cold wall, pressing on it in a failed attempt to stop the dull throb spreading within. The coolness soothed the ghostly thoughts that stung your body with an icy warning.

Dabi turned his head towards the sliver of twilight peeking out from behind the curtains. His tongue pressed against his cheek, plucking his cigarette he tucked behind his pierced ears. He placed it in between his pierced lips, inhaling as he lit the cigarette with his flames.

His eyes relaxed, closing as he exhaled a stream of smoke into your face.

He tapped the shaft of the cigarette, embers of tobacco burning through the thin white sheets you lazily spread.

“You want me to stop”.

It was the first time he directly spoke to you today.

“I’m so sorry Dabi, I-”

“You think I’m so fucking disgusting, don’t ya?” he spat, his eyes burning through his hooded lids.

“Dabi just listen to me, that’s not what it is, I just-”

He put his cigarette out on your thigh, the heat pricking through the layers of your skin until it incinerated your nerves, leaving a phantom itch on the burn.

He branded a perfect circular shape near your hip.

“Ya hate it that I’m tainting your perfect little skin? Your fucking perfect little skin that ya spend hours scrubbin’ and oilin’ like a dumb bimbo?”

“Dabi, please-”

“No, you fuckin’ listen to me”, he stressed, grabbing your cheeks with his bony fingers. “Lil’ preppy bitches like you, with pretty doe eyes, have somethin’ for big bad guys like me, right? That’s why you joined this league, didn’t ya, dollface? To find some broken fucks like me to fix?”

He tightened his grip on you, leaning closer to your face.

“I did a background check on ya, dollface. Quirkless lil’ smart bitch. Up to your ‘Masters’? So why the fuck did you join this league? You had a good life, dollface. So why’d you drag your naive lil’ face into my world? Because you don’t have a single. Bad. Bone. In. Your. Body”.

He punctuated each of those last words with a squeeze, your teeth clenching to prevent him from ripping through your cheeks.

“You wanted to fix me, didn’t ya? Prance around me looking sweet as honey until I dropped my shitty habits and licked the ground that you walked on”.

Your eyes began to water at the pressure and the truthful accusations.

“Yeah, don’t think that I didn’t catch on to ya’ hand sneaking up on me late at night, like some creep. You think I didn’t realise ya’ stupid lovey dovey eyes staring at me across the room? ‘Cause I did dollface, and it fuckin’ disgusted me”.

He let go of your face with a push.

“You want me to be your boyfriend, don’t ya?”, he asked, closing the distance between you two, holding your waist taut against his disfigured chest. “Hold ya’ hand and peck ya on those pouty lil’ lips?”

His voice lowered an octave as he looked down into your glistening wide eyes. You could smell the fresh smoke ensnaring your mind.

“But why would you wanna date someone as disgusting as me, dollface? I make you scream, don't I? Dabi, the big bad wolf?”

His flaming eyes dimmed, like fire without oxygen.

“So tell me, doll. What made you scream like that? Was it my fucked up face? Or was it my slimy hands dirtying your pretty lil’ skin?”

To the untrained ear, he almost sounded sincere. With his deep voice rumbling from his warm chest, your eyes flickered down to his lips.

“I love you, Dabi”.

His eyebrows raised for a split second before his hands pinched the top of his nose bridge.

“I fuckin’ knew it”.

You could feel his chest heave as he let out a deep sigh.

“Doll…”

“I love you so much, Dabi”, you breathed out, closing the distance between your lips by another inch.

He felt a sharp ache in the middle of his brows.

“You’re so beautiful to me”, you whispered, noses touching as you traced the deep shades of the graft on his abdomen. You felt his muscles tensing underneath your distinct touch, your eyes subtly smiling at his reaction.

His reaction towards your touch.

“Every part of you is so delicate and pretty”, you admired, looking up at the man with twinkling eyes, pupils dilated and full.

“Don’t want to change it, Dabi. Don’t want to change you”.

Your voice was so soft. Airy and sweet. A tone so unfamiliar for the raven man who was observing the way the moonlight shyly casted a glow on your face.

“Don’t lie to me doll…”

“I’m not lying”.

You tore away from his eyes, choosing to focus on the inconspicuous indents scratched into your walls. Your hands, frail, shook as your heart and gut imposed on you to finally tell him. Your deepest thoughts that plagued your mind for the longest week.

“I pushed you away because I’m tired of just being a warm body for those cold winter nights… I’m tired of being a dirty secret, Dabi. I love you, but I’m so tired of breaking myself just to give you pieces that you’ll deny the next morning”.

His faint press against your stomach made you breathe a heavy gust of air in.

“I can’t keep on breaking myself. Or else I’ll have nothing to give her”.

You guided his hand over your stomach, tears dropping on his forearm.

Dabi felt his heart spike, shallow breaths escaping his tightening chest.

“You told me you were on birth control,” he said, cutting through the silence, clenching his fist.

“I wasn’t, Dabi”, your breath hitched as you choked on your fear.

“I wasn’t. I told you so many times, asked you so many times to pull out, but you didn’t”.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

He was silent.

“I found out a week ago. And I’ve been trying to tell you, Dabi… I tried to tell you so many times, but you’d ignore me, Dabi”, you trailed off, body seeking comfort.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling yourself towards him to rest your face in the nook of his neck.

“Toga was playing around with my blood the day I cut my fingers. And she told me… she told me that she could detect a new taste in my blood. At first I thought it was the cigarettes but when she told me she couldn’t transform into my body because there was something blocking her… I asked Kurogiri, and he took me to Ujiko Sensei, and- um”, you gulped, your throat feeling drier. “And I’m three months pregnant, Dabi”.

Your drumming heart settled as you felt his hands close around your waist.

“I was so wrong about ya doll”, he mumbled as he nuzzled his face in the nook of your neck, mimicking your position.

Your heart basked in his grasp, your nails gently scraping down his back.

“I love you, Dabi…”

“I was so fucking wrong about ya…” he said, pulling back from your tight embrace.

He pushed a loose strand of hair behind your ears, his tilted head scanning your face. His right hand travelled up your shoulder, to your cheek. You basked in his touch, cool drops gliding his slender thumb across the plane of your cheek.

“You’re not naive, Y/N”.

That was the first time he said your name.

“You know exactly what you’re doing”.

Your mind was lost in the bare contact you finally received, his words slurred for you.

The war was over. He finally understood you.

“I shoulda known doll… a smart girl like you would wanna fix me in other ways. By turning me into your brat’s daddy”.

Your eyes opened suddenly, your brows ruffling as they met his gaze.

“Dabi-”

“Shut your mouth, doll. It’s only for your benefit”.

You expected his piercing grip. You expected his piercing voice.

“What d’ya think woulda happened, doll? What d’ya want to happen?”

You cowered under his view; your heart was walking on eggshells, unable to bear the constant change.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question, didn’t I? Now use that mouth to answer me before I burn it off”.

You sniffled, your stomach trembling as you tried to speak in full sentences.

“Dabi, we couldn’t continue this if we had her-”

“Couldn't continue what? Use your words,” he interjected, cold as steel.

You felt your head spinning, empty stomach feeling heavy.

“Dabi. We can’t expose our child to this-”

He pulled on your hair, the pressure on your scalp forcing you to pull on his wrists, struggling to pry his hands away.

“Did you not fucking hear me? Use your words”.

“Dabi, please, stop- please”, you pleaded, pulling his wrist with greater force, “please Dabi. I- we can’t expose our baby to the league and these operations, where we go out, half expecting to be killed by the end of it. We can’t tell her we’re villains, we can never let her know, and we can’t be villains anymore Dabi! Just please, I told you- just please let me go”.

He let your hair go when you struggled the most, causing you to stumble back into the wall behind you, intensifying the dull thud into something far more painful.

“And that’s how ya thought you’d fix me, am I right dollface? Get ya’self knocked up with my brat, and drag me outta this?”

He pushed his face into yours, grabbing your hair to pull you closer.

“Becoming a daddy didn’t stop my old man from being a villain, dollface”.

He turned you around, twisting your limbs to his liking until you succumbed, on your knees with your back against his chest. He lifted himself up to his knees, pulling you up by your aching hair, which was twisted in his left hand.

His right hand rose from your waist to your chest. He attached his lips to your cold neck, leaving heated kisses all across the skin.

“Dabi…” you mewled, your body temperature increasing as it battled between two conflicting emotions: you wanted to pull away. Your arm was tensed, longing to strike as his hands claimed your body. You curled into your torso, hiding as much as you can before the man behind you pulled you again, arching your back to his liking. Your hands clutched the thin fabric, your mind too tired to make up its mind. Because his pushing and pulling, his kissing and biting, just the feeling of his skin on your skin ignited such an urge to submit to his ownership. Your hips pushed out to feel his body, your sweaty skin brushing against his rough jeans to feel the electric connection. Your neck exposed itself to his messy kisses, your subconsciousness praying and begging for them to brush past your collarbone.

His right hand rose. As his hand reached your neck to press the side, his lips reached your ear lobe, nibbling on the flesh.

“You know my daddy don’t ya? Pro Hero Endevour? Enji Todoroki, Japan’s number one hero", he drawled out his syllables, spite laced in every inch.

He was a hero to the world but you know what he was to me dollface? A fuckin’ villain to me. Ruined my fuckin’ life so much that it was better when he ignored me. When he ignored his oldest son. When he threw me away for his newest prized possession,” he growled, a low vibration tearing through the chest he rested you on.

“I coulda been one of those heroes dollface…” his voice cracked.

“I wanted to be a hero so fuckin’ bad. If he asked my scrawny ass to do a hundred pushups, I did a hundred fifty. If he asked me to run five miles everyday, I’d run ten. What didn’t I do, doll? You name it. I did everything in the book because all I wanted was to be his first brat to surpass him. He told me I’d surpass him. Told me my flames were stronger than his.”

He was quiet.

“Of course they were. But you know what happened one day, doll?” You felt something warm creep down your shoulder.

“One day, at the doctor’s, I found out that my mommy’s quirk manifested in my regulation system.” He let out a breathy, broken sound.

“You’re smart. You know what that means, don't ya, doll?”

You felt another thick drop slide down the valley of your chest. It was red.

“My mommy's quirk was ice, doll. And you know what you need to tolerate an icy quirk? A hotter body. And you know what that bitch gave me, doll? A hotter body so no heat could ever escape it”. His left hand grabbed yours, lifting it up to his jaw, his graft leathery and sticky.

“You know why I have these, doll? It’s because that woman didn’t let my daddy’s quirk work properly. Her useless quirk took over my ol' man's regulation system. So the doctor told me, if I tried to surpass him, I’d burn myself alive”.

He rejoiced in the sobs he ripped from your throat, his hands shaking as they bled in between the fine lesions.

“He told me I couldn’t train anymore. That I couldn’t be a hero. So he knocked her up again and again because I was so disposable to him. As soon as his second brat was born, he didn’t give a flyin’ fuck about me. He knew he could get rid of me whenever he wanted. And you know what the saddest part is, dollface? I knew that too. I knew from the age of eight that I was gonna get replaced by my lil’ baby brother when he popped outta that useless bitch. He kept us away from that brat, because we were failures. And we could never taint the perfect, youngest Todoroki with our digusting failure”.

Your lips quivered with his, your hearts beating together.

“I was so disposable that he didn’t even bother looking for his eldest son’s dead body after he burned himself to death. So you know what this tells me? It tells me that you’re a fucking idiot. Every woman I’ve known has been a fucking idiot. Because if my old man abused me and ripped me apart until I destroyed myself to prove myself worthy as his son”, he licked the shell of your ear, pressing harder on your throat until he heard your ugly, shallow gasps for air, “and he's still the world’s greatest hero? What makes ya think that I’d become a righteous hero for your fucking brat?”

Your feeble attempt to breathe was music to his ears, a sonorous sound that twirled around in the empty room.

“I love how no one’s here. I love how empty this room is, dollface”.

The undertone of your lips matched his vibrant flames, your eyes feeling heavier and heavier.

“I want you to be like this room, doll”.

Empty.

“I want to turn you into an empty vessel”.

——————————————————————————————————

Keep a look out for Part 2, my angst-loving toes. If you would like me to add you to the taglist, please comment or message me :).

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nametakensff · 5 months

Text

Suggestible (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)

The first fic of a few I have for these two because I am deeep into this shit now lol. Ended up at 4K!

H/arry, whilst working on the murder case in M/artinaise and ever so slowly piecing his identity together, notices an interesting reaction in K/im to his budding cold. I guess the first part of a series that will become increasingly NSFW, but for now mostly just alluding to it!

Based on an insane little piece of dialogue in the game where K/im suggests that other people sneezing makes him sneeze

~~~~~~

Content:

Future/hinted M/M, cold sneezes, sympathetic sneezes, H/arry has a latent sneezing fetish that he doesn't remember having yet, spray, stifles, sneezing into handkerchiefs, slight elements of voyeurism but only because H/arry is a confused mess lmao

CW: lots of drug and alcohol mentions, lots of self-hatred

NB - I guess please don't read if you plan on playing the game and want to go in with no prior knowledge - it doesn't really have any plot heavy spoilers but takes place within the story

(also also - decided to write this in 2nd person narrative to somewhat resemble the style of game play - it's not perfect but it was fun to try haha)

Minors DNI please!

Lieutenant Kitsuragi trails behind you as you jog your way across the empty boardwalk and towards the fishing village. The air is piercing and bitterly cold – you are starting to feel the effects of it as the salty air whips against your face. It has been snowing on and off for hours, and you are woefully underdressed. This has not been a good day for you – few new leads, endless dead ends. And a hangover. The hangover to end all hangovers. Not even the frigid winter weather can distract you from the dull thud of a lingering headache, painful pulses beating in time with your heart. It feels as though your brain is too swollen – or your skull is too tight.

Suddenly, you feel it – the familiar, fluttering sensation of a building sneeze. You have been a little under the weather ever since you awoke in your hotel room several days earlier, having no recollection of who you are and woefully bereft of substances to abuse. You had put any subsequent discomfort down to just that – the miserable lack of alcohol, nicotine and narcotics in your system. This tickle, however – it is something all of its own. You stop dead in your tracks, practically skidding to a stop as it crests. You have no hope of holding back the encroaching sneeze. Your mouth hangs open, a great yawn of irritation, before – at last – release.

It comes out sounding more like a desperate shriek than anything else; a few startled seagulls scatter, flying away in a maelstrom of confusion and feathers. You didn’t mean to cause such a scene, but the cold air, the breeze, and now the beginning of a miserable cold – it all proves too much for you. You take in another shuddering gasp before you’ve even recovered from the previous explosion and do it all over again.

“HAAAEEEIISHHHHhhh!!!”

There are no seagulls left to scatter this time, but you hardly notice for the way this sneeze, even more violent than the one before it, sends you flying forward and staggering on your feet. You manage to catch yourself before you fall face down on the sandy ground, panting slightly in the aftermath. It practically tore itself out of you, leaving your throat more than a little hoarse. Perhaps a drink would be just the thing to remedy your misery…

You’re shaken out of your alcoholic deliberation by a familiar, soft voice. Lieutenant Kitsuragi is resting a gentle, gloved hand on your shoulder, hovering next to your crouched form. His voice is as placid as always, but you can’t help but notice a slight hint of concern. You right yourself immediately and snuffle at the mess that’s threatening to overflow from your nose, already a bright shade of red from years of alcohol abuse and the biting cold of the beach.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor?”

The Lieutenant notices the thickness of the sound, a barely perceptible look of displeasure passing over his face. You see him reach into his pockets and pull out a large handkerchief – the very same you have seen him use before to cover his face as you performed a field autopsy together. He proffers it to you and you hesitate for just a moment - then your nose starts to run into your moustache. This prompts you to take it from him and snuffle into it apologetically. You realise this pathetic sniffling will do nothing to stem the flow – you surrender and blow your nose with as much conviction as you possibly can. The sound of it is devastatingly loud, almost as disruptive as the sneezes preceding it. You glance at Kim sheepishly from behind the material. If it’s as disgusting to Lieutenant Kitsuragi as it sounded to you, he doesn’t so much as flinch.

When you’re finished, you offer the soiled fabric back to him with an outstretched hand. He looks at it with mild dismay.

“You keep that, officer. I carry a spare with me at all times.”

Stupid. That was stupid of you. Why would you hand him a snot rag? You dismiss the thought before the negativity drags you down further into the already miserable grips of your hangover. But for whatever reason, you keep note of this new information regarding the handkerchiefs. It’s not as though this is out of the ordinary for Kim. He’s so organised and focused – a great cop. Not like you. Of course he would carry a spare. Moving on, you ask the lieutenant for his opinion of what you ought to do next.

“Hm…We should return to the Whirling-In-Rags. Try Klaasje again and see if she’s ready to discuss the murder in more detail.”

It sounds like a perfect idea to you. The wind is fiercely cold and you never did get round to buying a windbreaker. Your hangover is making it impossible to tell if the major discomfort you’re feeling is from the alcohol dissipating within your husk of a body, or the virus threatening to take hold of your sinuses. Either way, getting out of the cold is imperative.

You approach the vicinity of the Whirling-In-Rags Hostel – at last. Your chest burns. Normally, a brisk jog is nothing to you – if anything, it energises your ailing body after a particularly lengthy binge. But today, you feel miserably worn out. You pause for a moment, look towards the Lieutenant, and attempt to speak. You fail, nothing but a series of wheezing gasps issuing from between your lips, followed by an increasingly hacking cough. You buckle over your knees and continue to hack like the washed-up middle-aged man you know you are. Kim places a hand on your back - he seems worried.

“This isn’t good. You’re unwell, detective. Perhaps you should rest a while in your room?”

Something tells you this isn’t a suggestion exclusively for your own benefit. A perfunctory glance tells you that Lieutenant Kitsuragi is tired, and as miserably cold as you. He wouldn’t mind a break inside a warm building, thawing out over a cup of coffee. Nevertheless, you feel disappointment blooming in your chest. As if you weren’t already a pathetic excuse of a policeman - missing memory, decked head to toe in questionable clothes and with a penchant for drug and drink on the clock – you’re now so weak you can’t even handle a mild case of rhinovirus. Pathetic.

You stand upright in an attempt to signal that you are and always have been a perfect beacon of health. You tell the Lieutenant that time is of the essence; you’ve been working on this case for days and have no time for further setbacks. He acknowledges this with a small nod; he seems to appreciate this professional, business-like approach to the matter. He doesn’t say anything more but merely walks beside you as you stride towards the Whirling-In-Rags.

You barely manage to take a few steps before the tickle is upon you again. You tense your jaw and attempt to quell the sensation by taking in shallow, measured breaths, but no dice. In seconds, it tears its way out of you as before, echoing off the walls of the nearby buildings. It is so loud that you wonder if the scabs protesting outside of the Union can hear it over the sounds of their own angry chants. Again, you stumble forward under the force of it, feeling light-headed.

The Lieutenant reaches out to grip your shoulder, steadying you just in time. You wait and sniffle miserably in preparation for the following sneeze, lingering in the depths of your sinuses, but it never comes. You straighten up, blinking tears of effort from your tired eyes, when you become aware of a certain sensation. Kim’s hand squeezes your shoulder with a sudden flex. Could this be a gesture of affection? Reassurance? This is not the Lieutenant’s regular style. He is far too cool for that kind of thing.

You look over your shoulder in curiosity as the Lieutenant continues his grip, despite your having collected yourself. You can see that behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes are unfocused and heavy-lidded. His mouth hangs slightly open, and he is holding a fist – expectantly? – before his face. The expression is…familiar. You’d seen it before, though not on Lieutenant Kitsuragi.

As you furrow your brow in deep consideration, reaching for an explanation that only just manages to elude you, slight movement from Kim pulls you out of your thoughts. You watch as his head tilts back, stays there for a just a moment before he’s jerking forward into his gloved fist, pressing it against his nose and mouth. His features contract severely, moulding his ordinarily placid face into a twisted, almost angry and unrecognisable countenance. You feel his fingers flex again. His entire body shudders, and as it does so, you hear him utter a tiny sound.

“-hHdt’!”

You blink, still not putting two and two together. Maybe this amnesia was worse than you had initially assumed it to be. Was he – seizing? No. Of course not. You continue to watch in confusion as he seems to uncrumple with a gentle exhalation. You think he might be done, but no. Just as quickly as one breath is exhaled, a replacement is sucked back in hurriedly. You watch as he repeats the action, ducking forward into his fist again, more forcefully this time. His shoulders jump with the effort and his hand squeezes substantially harder against you.

“h’Ngxt-!! hh…”

That strange sound again – this time followed by an uncharacteristically shaky exhale. A moment later the Lieutenant straightens up and assumes his regular composure, releasing your shoulder as if nothing just happened. If you hadn’t watched this series of events unfold right in front of you, you’re sure you would have missed it altogether. He blinks several times as if to clear away tears. Still you have no idea what the fuck just happened – any remnants of the pained expression that cinched his features tight has vanished, leaving him to look as calm and collected as before. You stare at him, eyes roving over his face. This intrusive observation gives you the last bit of information you need to understand. His nostrils flare delicately as he indulges in a sniffle, moisture gathering around the irritated rims and glittering ever so slightly in the afternoon sunlight.

Had those been…sneezes? Those tiny little swallows of air?! You feel a grin spread across your face, any discomfort of your own forgotten for the moment. You bless him enthusiastically. Ignoring the inkling that tells you not to tease or cajole him, you also comment on how adorable the Lieutenant’s sneezes are. Like a kitten. A badass cop kitten.

He thanks you somewhat reluctantly, blatantly ignoring the kitten comment. He clearly wants you to move on from him and focus again on the case. You continue to make your way towards Whirling-In-Rags, but don’t miss out of the corner of your eye the sight of the Lieutenant covertly pinching his nostrils shut, before pulling down towards his septum. He is wiping the resultant moisture of those sneezes away with his gloved fingers. This realisation makes your heartbeat spike for just a moment. You choose to ignore this.

You walk into the establishment – the increasingly familiar sounds and sights greet you as you pass through the door. The Hardie boys are in their booths, an unwelcome fixture. You glance sidelong at them – Titus glares daggers back at you. You think you should puff up your chest and stare him down in a battle of warring machismo, but at last minute think otherwise. It would do nothing to repair your already abysmal lack of authority if you sneezed at him mid stand-off. You glance away. He smirks, arms crossed firmly over his broad chest, clearly enjoying this silent display of dominance. You get an all-consuming urge to spin around and put him in his place – but you feel shitty. Much too shitty. It would probably end with his fist in your face.

You approach the staircase leading to the bedrooms when you feel that familiar, irritating tickle blossoming anew in your sinuses. Not again, not here! Not in a busy room full of so many people. You want to maintain your cool cop image – sneezing is not a cool thing to do. You briefly think to yourself that Kim is cool, even when he sneezes - but it is a foolish thought. You’re not him. You fight to suppress the gasp that fills your lungs, fumbling in your jacket pocket for the handkerchief the lieutenant had given you – but you’re too late. Two huge sneezes rocket out of you, sending veritable clouds of spray across the base of the staircase. They practically break the sound barrier, two near identical “IIIIEEEESHHHHhhtt!!!” screams of irritation. Kim doesn’t steady you this time – you reach out and do that yourself with the help of the banister.

Jeers erupt from the Hardie boys across the cafeteria floor – you only just manage to hold back an embarrassed blush from creeping over your weary face. You have finally managed to extract the handkerchief from your pocket. You decide a honking performance will do very little to remedy this utter humiliation, dabbing softly at your aching nose instead. You begin to climb the stairs; a sordid walk of shame.

“That’s just what this establishment needs, following the hanging, bloated corpse – a biohazardous drunk anointing his plague unto us all.”

That snark came from Garte – the bartender. No, the Cafeteria Manager.

“Just ignore him.” Kim mutters close to your ear. You proceed to flip the bird at Garte instead. As you make your way upstairs, you swear you can hear a tiny gasp from behind you. Without the sensation of a hand gripping your shoulder and signalling the completion of a sneeze, you have to strain your ears to even confirm they happen at all.

“’Ngxt’ch! h’ddt’! Hh’Ggkt!!”

Those are definitely sneezes. Slightly louder than before, enough that you can hear the Lieutenant’s own soft voice blending in with the strained sound of them. Your stomach is suddenly alive with butterflies. In your mind’s eye you can visualise the way his face crumples with each of them – nostrils flaring outwards as he valiantly bites down against them. You are sure if you try to do the same, your head will explode. Or at the very least, an aneurism is a surefire possibility. You shudder at the thought of it. You want to offer a blessing to the Lieutenant, but based on the previous reception it received, you decide against it. This could be the start of a beautiful partnership – Harry’n’Kim, Du Bois and Kitsuragi. Disco Cop and Cool Cop. You can always brainstorm on your trademark duo name at a later date. Either way, you decide to ignore the Lieutenant’s strangled outburst. A soft exhalation behind you signals that he is finished – for now.

You reach the top of the stairs. With great dismay, you realise that perhaps for the first time in your life, you are experiencing firsthand the effect of all those years of chain smoking. The wheezing gasps bend you over for a moment. Lieutenant Kitsuragi stands nearby, just short of nervously hovering, waiting for you to recover. You finally catch your breath and stride as confidently as you can towards Klaasje’s room. You extend a fist to knock on the door when you feel the soft touch of Kim’s hand on your arm, stopping you in your tracks. This has to be a new record. He has touched you on four separate occasions – all in a span of under thirty minutes.

“Perhaps you should take this opportunity to rest after all, detective.” Kim offers. You sense by the firmness of his voice that this is less of a gentle suggestion and more of a request. He smiles wryly.

“You are not very likely to get her to open up to you if you deafen her with your sneezing.”

Your stomach flips at hearing that word come out of his mouth. It is confusing but not entirely unpleasant. Whilst he doesn’t laugh, you can see the amusement held in the subtle quirking of his lips. You think for a moment that you should tell him your sneezes are the pinnacle of masculinity – ladies dig a huge, manly sneeze. You choose instead to sigh, practically deflating as any will to remain poised upright seeps out of you. You know he’s right. The filthy sheets of your bed beckon to you.

You agree with him and turn heel to your own room. He looks pleased – perhaps a little relieved. How disastrous did he think the interaction would have gone, had you proceeded? He turns to face you as you stand outside your respective doors.

“Don’t worry, detective. I will wake you up in a couple of hours, and we can resume our investigation. There is no point in making yourself ill.”

You nod. You are both about to enter your rooms when you feel it again. The tickle. It is persistent and increasingly difficult to control. You feel a gasp inflating your chest, helpless to do anything other than let the sensation overpower you. There is no time to even lift the handkerchief to your face. You do manage to turn away from the Lieutenant as the sneeze rips through you, baptising your own door with a trembling “aaAAAAEEEEGSHHHHhh!!!” A cloud of spray settles on the wood, droplets of spray shimmering under the harsh lighting. Gross.

“Bless you.”

A blessing. You feel relieved – and slightly giddy. Your stomach flips again. It is likely out of politeness, but the Lieutenant has at least not run for the hills in response to your disgusting display. You start to thank him when – oh, sweet confusion - he interrupts you with another sneeze of his own. He isn’t fast enough to bring a fist to his face this time. You can see every minute twitch of his facial muscles as he suppresses the sneeze through sheer willpower alone.

“Hh’Gnxt!! Huh’NGxtt!!”

The second sneeze follows immediately – his head dips twice in quick succession. That look of desperation suits him just fine, you think. You decide to abandon the thought as quickly as it forms. You are only partially successful in doing so. His hand reaches into the pocket of his trousers – he succeeds in removing the handkerchief in the duration of that second sneeze, you notice in great appreciation. You would never have managed to pull that off.

You watch as he raises the handkerchief before his face for a final sneeze. This one looks more irritable than the ones prior – the expression plastered on his face is openly more agonised than before. He pauses for what is likely only a second longer before the tickle reaches its apex, but that is more than enough time for another thought to cross your mind – one of an entirely salacious nature. You think that the face he is making resembles the sweet agony of another kind of release. You try to unthink it, but it’s too late – you’re absolutely, undeniably thinking it. The second passes. At last, the lieutenant smothers his final sneeze into the waiting folds of the handkerchief. It is considerably louder than before, even with the assistance of the fabric covering.

“hHh’nNGgxtt!!..chu…”

The soft vocal exclamation that rounds off the sneeze sounds weary, like it took a lot out of him. He sniffles briefly into the handkerchief, rubbing at his nose before tucking the cloth back into his pocket. Is it your imagination, or is said appendage starting to look a little reddened from the effort?

“Excuse me.” The Lieutenant mumbles, sounding uncomfortable. Embarrassed, perhaps?

You bless him before you remember to bite your tongue. Luckily, he accepts it with a soft “Thank you.” You watch as he removes his glasses and swipes at a stray tear rolling down his cheek. He replaces them just as quickly, giving you hardly any time to take in the sight of him without the thick frames. It is for a brief moment only, but the word ‘vulnerable’ comes to mind.

It dawns on you quite suddenly that he must be sneezing because you have infected him with your disgusting, no good germs. You ask him if this is the case, unable to hold back the shaking guilt as you voice your question-cum-self-abasement. He waves it off immediately.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that, detective, I assure you. I’m fine.” He pauses for a moment, looking hesitant to say more. You say nothing. This awkward silence seems to prompt him to continue.

“Sometimes the power of suggestion is too much for me. When somebody sneezes in my vicinity, I find my body often wanting to do the same. And your sneezes are particularly…” He trails off for a moment, in want of an appropriate term.

Masculine? Sexy? Bad-ass? You go with the first one. He shakes his head gently.

“…Suggestible.” He finishes. You’re not quite sure you catch his drift, but you do recall that he had mentioned something like this before. ‘Dancing makes you dance like sneezing makes you sneeze’. He had said that, in the church – he had been enthusiastic to interject, and then immediately changed the subject. You had had no idea what he had meant at the time – not once had you ever heard anyone say anything even remotely similar. It had been easily forgotten. Until now.

You smirk. You hope it isn’t akin to ‘the expression’, but is happening nonetheless. You cannot help it. This. Is. Gold.

You manage to hold back from laughing, but what you cannot help is calling him adorable. For the second time that day.

“I’m a 43 year old RCM policeman. I am far from adorable, officer.” He states firmly, almost as if he is chiding you. You do not miss, however, the softness in his eyes and the momentary twitching of his lips into a tiny smile. You do laugh at that. Bad idea. The laugh quickly morphs into a painful, wrenching cough. Whatever light-hearted moment you’d been sharing, you have ruined it. Your throat burns with the effort. God, but you want a drink. And a smoke. Maybe some speed. You finish at last, wiping spittle from your lips with the back of your sleeve.

“Please rest, Harry. I will check up on you soon.”

He casts a final worried glance your way before nodding curtly. You watch as the door clicks shut behind him. After a moment, you make your way into your own room, not even bothering to kick off your shoes as you collapse onto the pile of twisted sheets. Far too tired to think about the past that eludes you, about the case, about any of it, your eyes start to slip shut.

But it is back. The tickle. You have no means of fighting it, and you’re not sure you want to. You sneeze, smothering it into your sheets at the last second.

“HHHRRMMMPPPSHHHh!!!”

You peer cautiously at the sheets. You have left a considerably large damp patch on the section that covered your mouth and nose. Gross – that should be your middle name. You feel disgusting, but before you can begin another spiral of self-deprecation the exhaustion overwhelms you entirely. A final thought passes through your mind as you surrender to it. Did the Lieutenant hear you?

Next door, settling into the chair at his desk, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi tenses at the sound of your sneeze. It was loud enough to be heard not only the next room over – indeed, anyone on the second floor may have been startled by it. His breath hitches, once, twice, before he is tipping forward into his gloved hands, steepled around his face. Depleted of energy from the prior onslaughts, he is unable to hold them back at all.

“-hh! Hck’tshuu! Hupt’Tshhht!! ‘TSCHH’uu!! hm...”

He glances in unmasked irritation at the damp speckling of moisture now adorning the palms of his gloves.

“Merde!” He grumbles under his breath. The Lieutenant pulls the gloves from his hands, pausing to scrub at his itchy nostrils with his knuckles for one indulgent moment, before resuming the paperwork he had failed to complete the night before. He hopes, for both your own sake and his, that once he wakes you your sneezing spell will have passed – due to a temporary chill and nothing more. Neither of you have the time for this absurdity. He sniffles once more and begins to write.

#nametakenfic #d/isco e/lysium #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz fet #snz kink #snz fucker #snzblr #sneeze fucker

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